


Catching The Kiss of An Angel

by TheShellofMyBody



Category: One False Move (DND Campaign)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShellofMyBody/pseuds/TheShellofMyBody
Summary: (This is a story of two characters from a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I DMed a couple of months back.)Aried, a teenage Elf and their romantic interest, an Angel named Nicholas, have gotten well aquatinted in the city of Eicus Maccus since their sudden arrival. After their spontaneous act of love a few moments after meeting each other, Nicholas and Aried decided to take the relationship to another level. Starting off with a special date where the King shows his maiden, and future Queen to the city as an official declaration of love.But as an elf of a different culture, and a King with a history of non-traditional acts, can they love each other and still gain the respect of their home and dignity?
Kudos: 2





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceislife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceislife/gifts).



As soon as I asked him to make the water a little warmer for me, the scar-faced dwarf released his grip from the silver faucet and rubbed his heavily calloused hands together. Crackles and crunches sang out as he orchestrated a dry and dead skinned band, and soon it began to sound like he'd been rubbing two slabs of whetstone against one another. His left hand had fed in the strings, making a higher pitch of crunchiness, while the right, blackened, scarred and stiff, brought in the drums and gave the tune it's signature blocky, echoey crackles. He went at this for a gentle thirty seconds, before a flurry of flames erupted from between his hands. Yellow sparks shot out between his fingers, while the lone flame grows bigger exponentially, eventually getting to the size of his forearm before I took two steps backwards, towards the exit. I do not need to be lit on fire before my big date. God knows Nicholas would smite him if he found out I was even slightly singed by one of his humble servants. Don't need that on my conscience. 

Luckily, he ended the light show by dipping his palms into the bath water. As it went in, his hands sizzled like meat on an iron pan, and steam funneled out through the cracks of his fingers. I could see the water itself getting more restless and vibrating slightly as the heat flowed through the water. Then the sizzling died down, and once the last bits of vapors came, the dwarf released his hands from the water, then gestured for me to step inside. "Thank you, sir." I say with a gentle nod before handing him my white towel, and dipping my toe in the water, just to test. It's perfect. It's like a warm sauna without having to sweat so much, and it's so calm. The water feels like warm, silk sheets across my legs as I go in. I finally get my whole body inside, and the dwarf hangs my towel up upon a golden rack next to the tall door of the same metal. He then exits the room, leaving the door slightly cracked open. 

I took this time to relax more than actually bathe. The perfectly temperate water calmed my mind, and eased my troubling thoughts. This war has torn me apart. I don't even remember the last time I got to take an actual bath in nice, warm water, or even the last time I was able to take my boots off, and leave them off until I was ready to leave the next day. I’ve been so sore ever since the fire at Marucs. I ache every minute that I’m on my feet, and my spine feels like it’s collapsing under the weight of my head, as if it were a 5 ton boulder. My thighs and calves both feel like jelly at the end of each day, or sometimes days; I can’t even feel them sometimes, which may be a good thing so I don’t feel the electrifying pain I would definitely be feeling. I’m glad I’m in this bath. After 3 harsh months, pushing myself through rough waters, a cold winter, and constant battle, the warm hands of the water massaging the pain out of my body is the most euphoric gift anyone could ever be granted. Just laying here, the pressure in my feet and legs riddles out from my toes into the water. I finally feel loose, and the stiffness in my joints escapes me. Joints crackle and pop as I run my arms through the water and stretch out, while the heat forces acidic pains out my fingertips. My torso ends up mimicking the movement of a flowing river, as I roll the stones and mortar out my spine, up to my neck. If anyone were to walk in, they would definitely think I was contacting the gods, with the way my body moves like an Oracle. But shifting pain out through my body takes weird movements, especially after months of torturous travel. After this, I’m getting my own horse that I own, and will never leave my side. Time to live like royalty for a while before I’m forced back onto a battlefield. 

For the next few minutes, I just enjoy the hot water against my skin. Once the warmth was gone, I stepped out of the tub to grab my towel, and then dried myself off, putting on a white, silk robe that fell to my ankles before exiting out into the hallway. The hallway stretches for a couple yards on both ends, with golden doors to other bathrooms every few feet on both sides. I took the side to the left of me, and followed the hallway down to a circular dead end, surrounding me with 3 doors to the royal bedrooms equally spaced apart. I walked into the one in the middle, Nicholas’ room, and placed my towel down on the first piece of furniture I saw, which happened to be an oak wooden nightstand next to his bed a few feet into the room. 

His room is surprisingly small for a Prince, now King. It’s beautiful no doubt, but it’s more of a glorified tavern room. Takes me about ten seconds to walk to both ends of the room, and most of that space is taken up by his massive, lavish bed. It sits a half foot off the ground on thick, oak wooden stilts. The bed frame surrounds the whole bed before forming a masterpiece of a headboard against the wall. The headboard stands tall, missing the roof by the length of a boot, and forms an arch with one curve on both sides and one tall curve once they meet. On the very edge of the curved arch, the pattern of a ram’s horn is carved into the wood, and burned in at the depths, sort of outlining it. The space inside the carving is mostly flat, geometrical carvings up until the middle, where it stops at a head sized circle, probably for Nicholas’. The bed itself is covered in a thick, black fur blanket which droops off the sides, almost onto the floor. Two fat, white pillows rest, angled at the headboard, with a rough, worn stuffed bunny toy between the two, it’s feet under the blanket itself. 

A stuffed bunny? Is...is this his?

It’s actually so adorable. It’s this skinny, white bunny with a cone shaped nose and an exaggerated lengthened body. It’s arms and legs are a fraction of the length of its body, and the underside of it’s stomach and both arms and legs are protected by a silk barrier. The whole thing is worn; a dirty brownish color with rough black spots every here and there, and it’s right button eye is missing. It’s taken some damage, but still holds up. It must mean a lot to him. It could’ve been the only thing he was able to talk to whenever he wasn’t training or listening in on war room discussions growing up. I just wonder if…

“Is that Dusty you’re holding?” a calm, whispery voice spoke from behind me. 

I turned around, and Nicholas, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and brandishing his glistening white wings was standing at the doorway, closing it behind him as he entered. 

“His name is Dusty?” I smirked.

He walks up to me and hold’s Dusty’s head in his hand, rubbing it’s snout with his thumb back and forth. “Well, look at him. He’s dusty and old.”

I took another look at the worn out animal, before looking back into his ocean blue eyes and saying, “Yes but...he certainly wasn’t when you got him, right?”

“He’s a family favorite.” He takes him from my hands and places him back in between the big pillows. “He’s been a family member since the founding of Eicus Maccus. Every prince and princess, the oldest at least, gets him as a token of strength and willpower. It’s said to give the owner the powers of their ancestors, but I've felt the same since I’ve got him. He’s cute to me and that’s why I’ve kept him for so long.”

"That's really nice. So he was just predetermined to become dusty, so you named him as such?" I ask as I walk over to his wardrobe, him following me as well. 

"His original name...or his actual name is Mischkynn, after my many greats grandfather, but children don't like complicated words, so... Dusty."

Nicholas takes a step in front of me, beating me to the tall, black, wooden wardrobe on the other side of the room and throws the doors open. Inside are around seven different robes and three shirts, all either black, white, gold or brown. He pulls a white silk robe with gold trim down the sides that reaches down to his hips off it's hanger, and throws it onto the bed behind him. He then dips down to the dresser drawers and chooses a pair of dirt brown laced leather sandals that go up to his knees, tossing them on the bed as well. 

He turns to his clothes, then glaces back at me slightly, saying, "You may want to choose your clothes for tonight as well. You are free to choose from my wardrobe if you wish. If not, I may summon Loriet again, and he will get you fine clothing from the tailor." 

I stared at him, my face a bit puzzled, "Do you not have any women's clothing anywhere in the palace?" 

"The only women's clothes are for the queen and princesses, as well as the prince and the King's. In fact, I'm not supposed to lend you my clothes but, since I'm King now…"

"-I'll ask Loriet." I interrupt. "Wearing your clothes would be great, but I need something in my style and...my size." 

...and that’s the truth. Everything in that wardrobe could fit two of me in them and still be baggy, and to add fuel to the flame, they’re not my style at all. I’m usually not one to complain about the clothes I’m given, but when we’re about to go on a date, me with the King of Eicus Maccus, in public, I want to look presentable in my own way. I’m from Marucs, a farming/fishing town located in the warmest part of the continent, and thick, white robes and sandals aren’t really my thing. I’m from padded leather coats and trousers, woolen, collared shirts and worn hide shoes. It’s more of an impoverished fashion, but it’s me, and I’d prefer to wear the nicest of Maruccan attire on my date; show Nicholas some culture outside the kingdom he’s been trapped in his whole life as well. Hopefully he’s okay with that.

Nicholas smirks at my comment, then drops his bath towel onto the floor, kicking it into a foot high pile of other bath towels next to his dresser. As he grabs his shirt, and lifts it over his head, squeezing his left wing through the enlarged arm holes, he calls out triumphantly like a wildfire, “LORIET!!!” His voice booms so violently, all the glass in the room, windows, cups, vases, all of it warbles as screeching wails sear at their edges. Within a couple heartbeats, a rapid fire crescendo of footsteps carry the tiny, crusty-handed dwarf to Nicholas’ room. Once there, the man stands at attention, awaiting a command. Nicholas himself says nothing. Instead he looks at me and nods his head towards Loriet. 

“I guess that means me…” I whisper, then clear my throat. “I would like to get some clothes for myself. Preferably Maruccan.” I doubt they have anything resembling Marucs, however I’ll take anything close to it. Anything that isn’t white and gold and has a breeze passing under me. 

Loriet nods, and swings his hand towards himself, telling me to follow him, then heads out of Nicholas’ room into the hallway. I follow a few steps behind as he leads me outside of the hallway and into the grand war room. Out here, the freezing marble floor pierces my bare feet like knives, and the further I walk, the more my feet feel like ice. Luckily, we followed the hallway to about three doors down, then stepped inside of a fairly large room.

It’s about the same size as Nicholas’ rectangular room but was only for clothes. The walls of the room matched the same black marble as the rest of the palace, and the floor was carpeted in a thick, bleached white fur that tickled my soles as I walked across it. On all sides of the walls, there are two stories of golden hanging rods, separated by shirts/jackets on top, and pants/skirts on the bottom. On the left and right sides of the room, a rack of shelves divided the pants and shirts in half and were filled with shoes and boots that all looked pretty similar. All the clothing in the room was either made of wool, cotton, hide or leather, and the colors ranged from a forest green, dirt brown, tanned beige, and a burned yellow. The shoes themselves were different shades of brown, as they were pretty much all made of leather. 

Dare I ask how in the world Eicus Maccus has a room full of Maruccan clothes? I'm pretty sure no one here leaves, and until I showed up, no one entered, how is it possible that they have Maruccan clothes? Tons of it? There's nothing special about Maruccan clothes, it's what the common rabble here wears, but this city borders Bold One's Pass, Condria and Nova Cavanaugh, which are all pretty well off cities with well off clothing. With Marcus' matching the fishing and hunter lifestyles, it is one of the only cities where this style of clothing is found. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of something so little, but, it baffles me that in the richest city on the continent, they sport the lowest of the low's clothing. 

Loriet turns around, looks me in eyes with a smile, then nods before heading out the door, back down the hallway, leaving me to make the toughest decision of my life. 

The last time I went on a date was about a year and a half ago. It was as good as a date with a lazy barmaid could go, but the one thing that worked is that we wore similar clothing. Maruccan formal clothing, which is mainly just a leather vest over a linen shirt, and tight leather pants with boots no higher than the ankles. As long as it was clean, and wasn't what you wore when you worked, it was formal. There's no fancy dresses, or lavish silk robes where I'm from. No need to show off anything, because it's a waste of time. Now that I'm in a society where my image matters as much as my attitude and background, what do I wear to stay true to my culture and still look elegant? 

I scanned the room for my options. Tradition says I should wear a forest green linen shirt with a collar under a thin, leather vest that exposes the chest, and a pair of leather leggings and ankle high boots. But, then I'd just look out of place. This city is all about white, gold, beige, black. The colors match elegancy and a lavish lifestyle, not the forests and fish. So instead, I saw a plain white cotton shirt, with ruffles at it's V-shaped bosom. I could pair that with some beige linen tights and knee high leather boots. That would look good on me, but the ruffles are a bit much. So instead, I found a white linen shirt, which was a little loose at the waist, but I could just tuck that into my leggings. White, beige, brown. Linen and leather. That is me, and that is perfect. Hopefully Nicholas won't think harshly of my choices. He's not the type to care about small things like this but, as King, with a reputation, things may have changed for him. Being seen out with a partner of clearly lower status, it may be a little noticeable, and embarrassing even. Hopefully it's not like that. Hopefully it's just him and I and our thoughts together. Just mind and his love alone. 

I took the clothes off their hangers and stripped down out of my bathrobe, leaving it hanging next to the door for Loriet. Then, I slipped on my undergarments and socks and the rest of my outfit followed. The tights compressed my thighs, and as soon as I put on the boots and tied the laces, my calves and feet had little breathing room. The only comfortable thing I put on was the shirt, but since loose fabric dropped off the sides of the pants like rolls of a fat man, I had to tuck it into the trousers, which now added pressure onto my crotch. However, in the tall mirror in the center of the room, I looked great, better than I thought I would actually. The white shirt and beige tights fit together well. Along with a dirt brown leather belt and boots of the same color, I looked pretty fashionable for Marcus. If I were back at home, I'd be getting all kinds of crazy looks. People would think I'm out to marry a prince, and right they would be. 

Despite being physically uncomfortable from the waist down, I toughed it out and walked back to Nicholas' room. As I walked, I felt a little more room for my toes and heel come up, along with some space in my crotch and thighs. I guess I just had to break them in first. These clothes have probably never been worn since they were tailored, so they need some doing in. By the time I got back to Nicholas' door, enough space was freed that I could finally tolerate it without it being distracting, and even slightly more comfortable than not. I knocked at the door three times, and waited until Nicholas allowed me in to enter. 

He was beautiful, demonstrating a brilliant array of colors, cloth, and pure elegance. His angelic, bleached blonde hair was braided in three rows on his scalp, which combined into one, thick braid down past his shoulder blades. He wore a long sleeved, white lace, button shirt that hung down to his hips. It had white chiffon ruffles surrounding his neck, and down to his chest, where it formed an egg shape circle around six engraved, silver buttons. At its shoulders, the lace became loose down his arms, and wasn't as tight onto his body as the rest of the shirt, until at his wrist, where it was as skinny as a sock, and had white chiffon ruffles coming out from it. His linen pants were as black as a void, and gripped onto his legs so tightly, you could see the muscles in his thighs and calves bulge through the fabric. His feet were covered by shiny, calf high, black leather boots that had religious imagery sculpted into them, but stopped at the ankle. The blades of his wings were topped with silver engraved cuffs all the way down to the tips of his feathers, which were painted black. Finally, the area around his eye was surrounded in a flurry of gold, blue and white dots, resembling a night sky. 

My brain stutters for a moment and my eyes take in more light than I expected, every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up with my eyes. He's stunning. The way the sunlight bends around him and reflects the most beautiful parts of him, it really makes him look like the angels told to me in stories. Every part of him, decorated, made to be presented. This city is about peace, strength, and virtue, but it was founded on its beauty. The evidence is right in front of me. 

Nicholas shifts his ocean blue eyes at me, then stares me up and down. A wide smile forms on his face, which displayed racks of shiny, white teeth, and then he says, "...I thought I was the beautiful one here." 

I turned my head to avert my gaze, but earth in my cheeks; blushing gave me away. "You are, Nicholas." I whisper. 

His boots click from heel to toe as he makes his way over to me, and once there, him, and his gigantic wings block all rays of sunlight. Between these two walls, it's just me and him. "You look at me, and you see some of the fanciest creations across the continent thrown on me. These clothes, the jewelry, makeup, it's like fine wine with a meal." 

"But fine wine can make or break a meal." I retort, poking his breast. 

"Fine wine may enhance a meal, but without it, you still have a delicious dinner. Clearly, your meal is exquisite enough to not require any spirits." He strokes my cheek with his fingertips, while using the other to hold my hand in his. Then he bends in, placing himself at my ear, and whispers. "Aried, how did you know that I was starving, and not parched?" 

He takes my small hands into his, and drops a pillow-like kiss on my forehead. I use the opportunity to tilt my head upwards and tug his lips on mine. Short, timid kisses are passed between us as he starts to caress my arms lightly, until he pulls away for a second, and asks, "Shouldn't we save this for after our night out?"

"You say that as if we'll run out of kisses, Nick." I smile. He smiles back at me and nods his head, pressing his lips onto mine. It's a slow, sweet kiss at first. His lips melt into mine like chocolate, and I can feel a frosty breeze on his breath. The skin of his neck is soft where I touch, and the rosy scent carried on his clothing invades my nostrils, making me a bit light at my feet. I've never felt Nicholas like this before, and as soon as he rubs my waist, I groan in pleasure. 

That's when things begin to pick up. He pulls me in closer, his hands cupping onto the slope of my spine, and his fingers slip into my tights. My lips slip from his in the midst of this action, and he pressed his against the base of my throat, and I grunt, pushing myself against his neat ruffles.

"M-Maybe we should save this…" I whimper, pushing his head off of my neck. His grip on my waist weakens, as be stares me in the eyes a bit dazed, but then smiles after a second, and wipes his saliva off of my neck with his sleeve.

It hurts to stop, but we bathed, dressed and made ourselves look gorgeous for the entire city to see. I won't let his ruffles be out of place or my shirt be untucked because of it. It'd be embarrassing. However, I'm glad we stopped, because we're definitely going to be thinking of this moment all night while we're out. I know I will, at least, and if Nicholas does too, then the second we're back in this room, is the second we step into the Heaven-realm. 

"As you wish, milady. Shall we head on out then?" Nicholas asks, grabbing a hold of my hand. 

I squeeze firmly on his hand, and will a forced, bright smile, I say, "Let's do it!"


	2. II

Catching The Kiss Of An Angel  
Chapter Two:

A soulful harmony of horns resounded behind us as an intrepid entourage of heavy drums triumphantly boomed to the rhythm of Nicholas and I's footsteps. While walking through the broad, outspread corridor of ecstatic, cheering citizens, a school of palace younglings glazed the crimson nylon carpet we walked on with gentle handfuls of pink and white flower petals. These children guided us through the nooks and the crannies of the city, decorating the floors as we passed through citizens of many races, and deities; the first time I'd seen angels and demons at peace with one another, and smiling with each other. We made our way through every marble house, shop, and Manor of the city, which at that point, the richest families gave us presents as we passed through. Finally, we made it round a corner headed straight for the main road of the city that led to the front gate, and families of black doves were released from their cages and they flew gently overhead until we made it to the front gate. 

This is the traditional way of showing the public the new spouse of the King. A walk through the centers of the city for all the welcoming citizens of Eicus Maccus to see in his or her beauty, and it's going swell so far. I felt enlightened and accepted by the citizens as they cheered for us, and occasionally threw flowers and gold coins at us, and I waved back and smiled with sincere gratitude. I did not hesitate to try on the elegant jewelry given to us by the nobles, and I laughed eloquently as the weight of the gold and gems hunched me over like a cleric. But strangely enough, Nicholas was not having it at all. I'm not sure if any of the other citizens or anyone in our party could tell it, but Nicholas made it obvious that he was struggling to hold back negative vibes. 

Only a few subtle nods gave it away for me. Starting with when we exited the palace, he drained out a deep, exasperated sigh, as if being punished. It wasn't exaggerated, but quiet, and being next to him, I could tell through the whisper exactly what that meant. However, I didn't address it, instead, we began our walk. As we walked, I had my arm fully extended and shared a bright, white smile with the fellow citizens of Eicus Maccus. Nicholas on the other hand was slouching, and slightly dragging his feet. Whenever his boot would glide across the carpet, he would yank it upwards and keep moving forward as if he were tired and it had been a long hard day, but it was about four in the afternoon. Finally, something only I would truly notice took place. Whenever Nicholas is happy, truly happy, his wings extend out either halfway or fully, and would occasionally flutter in the wind like a bird trying to land. Anytime we hug, or kiss, whenever we simply have a conversation, his wings are erect. From the palace to the front gate, his wings were folded, and barely spanned past his arms. During one of the most joyous ceremonies in Eicus Maccus, Nicholas was irritant and impatient, but luckily, he didn't make it obvious enough for everyone to see. His only mistake was allowing me to figure it out.

A line of Sentinels in shining silver and gold armor decorated the front gate. As soon as we got within steps of the gate itself, the Sentinels split in half, and allowed for the humongous wooden gate to swing open towards us. It took a few moments for it to fully open as only two men manned the ropes and pulleys to drive the door's opening mechanism, during which, the crowds have their final cheers, kisses and flowers and our party of flower girls, a band and guards disbanded, heading back to the palace. Once the door was open, the entire city let out one homogenous rallying cry for us, throwing their hats and the rest of their gifts to us in the air, some people their spouses, and as soon as we walked out the gate, and the doors clicked shut, the cries died down, but never fully dissipated. It was at a manageable level, and not as earth-shattering as earlier. Something about that tells me the city is definitely going to have a party in our name. I can't wait to see the city trashed after a night like this. 

Just as I have that thought, it happens again: a long, this time audible, exasperated sigh that carried weight in its passing from Nicholas. 

"Nicholas, what's wrong? Something is definitely off about you, and you'd better be lucky that no one noticed." I snapped, and let go of his hand to face him eye to eye. "Nick, this was supposed to be the happiest moment in a King's entire life, and you seemed to be the saddest person there. So please, tell me what's wrong." 

"I don't want this, Aried." He burst out with no hesitation. "I don't like parading you around town for everyone to see as if you were some prized possession; like an object. I don't like that now that the city knows we're together, that everything we do will be publicized, and my value as a King will be judged by each citizen's opinion on what we do. I hate that from now on, we have no privacy. That's what's wrong, Aried. And I'm sorry if I ruined this for you." At this point, his cheeks are glowing red, and his body trembles in agony. He's pacing around in an uneven circle, and digging his boots into the grass as he turns. "I-I...I want to just be Nicholas and Aried, not the King and the Queen and the possible prince and princess of-"

"-Nicholas…" I interrupt by grabbing him by the shoulders, blessing his forehead with a gentle kiss. Then leaving a clinging, passionate kiss on his pillow-like lips, of which he hesitates at first to reciprocate, but then pulls me in closer for a deeper kiss. "It's okay to feel like this. You have every right to feel like this. It's tough being a King, especially at this age. You're only seventeen, and things are complicated. But you cannot allow for these thoughts to cloud your mind, Nick. You must show your strength and confidence to your people always, even when you're terrified of what's to come. You're the center of morale for this city, and if they see you weak, vulnerable, they will be too. Your personal emotions and feelings are for me only. If this love is true, then I'm the only person who truly needs to know these things."

It takes him a second to fully grasp my words. With our foreheads kissing, my fingers interlocked with his as his wings surround me and providing a wink of privacy, he sighs deeply, but struggles to speak. The words are at the top of his tongue, but aren't making sense to him. His jaw stammers, and he lets out moans and grunts instead of words. 

"You don't need to say anything. Just keep that in your mind, okay? Tonight, you don't need to be a King, you need to be the angel I fell in love with." I conclude, before wrapping my arms around his neck, and planting a kiss on his cheek. With my head resting on his breast, I sit there, listening to his confused, vulnerable heartbeat, which pumped slowly and irregularly as we stood there. I decided to leave it like this, until he was ready to begin our night out. 

He holds me tight with both his arms and his bedazzled wings for about another minute, before he whispers, "Thank you, dear. But I must say, if we are to see the sunset on time, we might want to get going." 

"Good choice." I smile at him. He pulls me off of him, sliding his hand into mine as he does it, then we begin to walk down a makeshift dirt pathway, leading to our destination. 

The road first leads around the city's walls entirely, then splits in half once reaching the beachfront where the fishing boats dock; one leading to the coast, and the other following the coastline westward. We followed it westward, passing through a dense forest of oak trees until a grassy plain broke out from the forest. It stretched out for around half a mile in a spherical shape where dense forest outlined the edge, and followed the edge of the coastline. There wasn't a sandy beach here, but piles and piles of rocks, large stones, and gravel that led to a mountainous cliffside at the very edge of the spherical grassland and the coast. The plain was flat until about the cliffside, where at an incredibly steep angle suited for climbing, rather than hiking, stood at least four hundred feet high on smooth, straight stone; it looked like the toes of a boot had been kicked through a wooden plank. 

This is where Nicholas stopped, walked forward a bit into the setting sunlight, and took off his boots, laying them next to him before lying flat on the grass. He rested his head on both his hands, and laid down flat, with one knee bent, and the other extended. His wings, extended out on the grass looked like large pillows meant for a King's bed, despite the jewelry on his feathers and bones. For the first time in a while, Nicholas is...relaxed. That smile on his face, his eyes closed. No armor, no how, no arrows. Unbothered. He's happy. I can see why he wanted to rush to get here after the ceremony. He just wanted to be himself for a moment. For maybe his last moment too, before being subjected to a lifetime of maintenance and leadership of his society. So I gave him a moment for himself, and I walked around this forest-caged plain. 

The grass wasn't forest green like the plain surrounding Eicus Maccus. It showed more of a lime green, and yellow tints here and there. The warmer climate influences the colors of not only the grass, but the trees. Their leaves aren't orange or red, like the ones that grow around Marcus, but are mostly a mix of lemon and lime colors. The trees themselves aren't very tall, only about a foot taller than Nicholas, but are very thick and dense in the middle. Perfect for training with young teens and new recruits if they were to practice archery, or work on the strength of their punch. These grey stones that surround the place, give me a weird feeling of protection, as if the layers will protect me from the violent, rushing ocean waves that descend upon then every few moments. Because of it though, the stones are very smooth, and almost flat, perfect for skipping rocks. The ocean is too violent, however. If this were Lake Vaariad back home, I'd spend the rest of the evening trying to best the Angel in a contest, trying to see who could skip a rock the most times or the farthest distance. Chances are that he would most definitely win, based on his lifetime of training, but I know a thing or two about throwing knives, stars and stones especially; it'd be a close battle. 

I can't stop thinking of home whenever I'm around areas like these. Whenever I'm around Nicholas, home seems to pop up in my head constantly. I miss it terribly so as well. The simple life with my best friend, my small town and my infant daughter is something I long for deeply. Oddly enough, I miss waking up every morning to Adrian wailing and crying a river, needing to be changed and cleaned. Then watching her coo and laugh as I feed her her oatmeal, eyes blue like Nicholas', hair as dark as mine, her fat little body... watching her roll off of the couch whenever I'm not looking at her. Sweet, sweet memories. A life I miss so much. Maybe one day Nicholas can fly me back home, and I can finally get Adrian back. Raise her here, in Eicus Maccus, with my angel. A peaceful life in the midst of this war - torn continent. After the war is over, and Ivy and Finn have control over everything, sitting in the grass next to Nicholas, cuddling him and Adrian as Nicholas brushes my back with his cotton-like wings is my endgame. I couldn't wish for a better life. 

"Aried!" Nicholas calls out from the other side of the plain. "You're going to miss the sunset!" After a quick glance, he's right. The huge, yellow sun is barely skimming the horizon, but is moving very quickly. 

I darted to Nicholas. Once there, I slipped off my shoes and placed them next to his boots then stepped over his body to rest my body on his right wing. I sank into it as if it were quicksand, and then laid my head on his chest, my hand on his pacing heart. His hand slides up his body to meet mine, then squeezes it softly. 

"Do you see that, Aried?" He whispers lowly, and takes his hand off of his head to rustle my hair and massage my scalp. 

I switched my glance to the sunset at the horizon, spreading it's largeness into a grateful sky, calming the ocean waves as it massages the edge of the water. Vibrant hues of red, blending with orange, purple and crimson lined across the sky, fading to the purple-blue shade of the night. Then I shut my eyes to experience this moment deep within my soul, not just my eyes. The waves crashing against the shore and each other, the wind whistling a barmaid's tune, bluebirds singing and cooing for food in the trees. The chilly, humid plane sends a shiver up my spine, of which Nicholas rubs out of me with his free arm. The wind picks up and freezes my feet, which disturbed me, and I opened my eyes as I rub my feet on Nicholas, who, despite having been training his whole life, has surprisingly soft feet. But as I open my eyes, I witness the magnificent sunset beheld by the gods. The bright orange ball falling down and down until it sinks into the horizon, leaving the sky with teases of stars and waves of purple, blue and crimson. I look up and Nicholas is mesmerized. He watches the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on the rocks. His eyes, locked on the horizon, face glowing with orange and red waves as the sun falls gracefully into twilight. His lips beckon a smile, wide enough to show he's caught in the euphoric glow in the horizon. I shift my head closer to his heart, enough to feel my presence, yet quiet enough for him to stay lost in this moment a bit longer. The red sky is delightful to my soul. A flock of seagulls soar into the sunset, kissing the sun goodbye. Within seconds, the ocean engulfs the sun, as twilight beckons the stars. A white ball rises above the tides, becoming brighter as it goes higher. Within the hour, the sky is pitch black, and the moon lays lonely. 

"Aried, do you know what I love most about this place?" He asks, after almost an hour of silence with a gruff voice, croaky voice. 

"What is that?" I answer. 

"No one knows that this place, this part of the continent exists. Somehow, it's not mapped out on any map I've ever seen, and there's no tales of this place. I can't guarantee that I'm the first to discover it, but all I know for certain, is that now, we're the only people in the world who know about this spot." His face lights up in the dark shadow of the night like a torch, as joy lifts a white smile on his face. It's like he's a kid when he talks about this place. He's giddy, enthusiastic, with pride in his voice as he talks. "Every footprint in the dirt has always come from my feet. Every mark in the trees by my blade. Every dent, by my arrow. Every rock, broken by my fist. This place was a blank canvas before I arrived. Now it's my playground. My safe haven from the rest of the world."

"Sanctuary." I mutter, and stare back into his eyes. 

"Yes, sanctuary….my sanctuary. Now, our sanctuary. If I could spend the rest of my life in this spot I would. If I weren't King, I'd build a shack right here, and we would raise our two kids here. Have them roam around the grasslands, playing guards and thieves, while we sit back on the porch watching them with cups of warm tea. The world to our backs. No worries. No responsibility but our own." With a sudden, swift movement, before I could blink my eyes, Nicholas mounts me, his wings blocking the moonlight, and whispers, "Imagine that, Aried. Just imagine it." 

The thought alone is pleasing. Watching Adrian grow up with her possible younger sibling, as Nicholas and I grow old together after a life of adventure; a life well spent with no regrets. No war. No worries. Just him, our kids, and I, all together as a happy family, in a house on land all to ourselves. It's a Paradise. Adrian would be raised on the land like I was, and I could teach Nicholas about life outside of the city. We'd start a beautiful farm so that we aren't living off rabbits and fish. But still, I would teach them how to hunt and fish for food. Occasionally, we could travel to the city and grab books for the kids to read, and get a sense of adventure from. Maybe even get a telescope to watch the stars from up close. This magnificent theoretical is beautiful, truly. I wish it were like this. I wish it could be like this. 

"I wouldn't wish for a better world. Just you, our kids and I, living off of what we have, and what we've learned. If I were to die in any future, it would be this. The imagination we've created right here. The love we shared, right here." I start to caress his arm lightly as I speak the words to him. "It would be beautiful, Nicholas." 

I gently lean in and kiss his warm lips. It lasts a second, and he pulls away and we share light, shallow breaths. But unable to contain myself anymore, I hold Nicholas' head in my hands, and pull him in for a fiery, passionate smooch. His hands work their way around my body, feeling each crevice, each line along my physique. Unexpectedly, his hand drifted to my hip, and settled as he pulled my pelvis to his. I inhaled sharply. He's warm against my chest, chiseled to absolute perfection. I splay my hands against it, intending to maybe push him away, but something tells me to bring him closer. His breathing quickens as did mine, and he breaks from our kiss to nuzzle delicate smooches onto my neck. Faint like whispers, but with each kiss, he sucked on the skin of my neck, and caught it between his teeth. His tongue brushes the tip of the trapped skin before moving on to the next spot. With each electrifying kiss, I begin to tremble uncontrollably, as my heart flutters in my chest. He's now pressing onto me, involuntarily moving his hips onto mine. I can't help but press against him as he begins thrusting sharp breaths out of me. It lights a fire in my heart that spreads warmth throughout my body, and within seconds, I'm addicted. These kisses are my salvation, my torment. I live for this and I would die for just this if I could. 

He holds me against his body tightly, his fingertips slipping onto my leggings, and undoing buttons. He undoes the final button, and slips his hand into the left legging, gripping my thigh. I try to fight the instinct to grab a hold of his hand, but I lose that battle, and involuntarily slap his arm away. He breaks his kiss, and stares at me with apologetic eyes. 

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"-Don't worry. It's just habit. But actually Nicholas, I'd rather we didn't do that tonight, not here. It's too soon,and it's getting dark. We're unarmed, and I know that you know this place by heart, but it's not safe here. We should head back before it's too late and they send a search party after us. I'm sorry if I ruined things." I interrupted. The thought of sex with Nicholas isn't unpleasant, but it's too early to try. We're still young, Nicholas is just now King. A child right now would be our downfall if I were to get pregnant. 

Nicholas sighs, and pushes himself off of me. "You haven't ruined anything, Aried. I promise. Let's go back home." He grabs my shoes first, and slides them onto my feet, however he doesn't do it perfectly and they end up a bit tight at the toes. So I adjust them as he puts his on. After our shoes are on, we take off, following the dirt road back to Eicus Maccus. After about an hour and a half of walking, we're back into the city, and surprisingly, it is not a mess. 

Most of the citizens are inside their homes, going on about their daily lives, but the ones who stayed out to celebrate continue to do so with drinks in their hands, and singing songs in a language I cannot understand outside taverns and shops. The red carpet and flower petals have all been picked up and disposed of, and all that's left of the ceremony are the drunkards, and the few citizens who clapped and welcomed us back to the city as we entered through the front gate and made it back to the palace. 

The golden doors slam shut. The clocks read ten o'clock sharp. Loriet passes by rolling around a cart of towels to the bathhouses, and waves at us as he passes by. After he disappears into the hallway, it is completely silent, lonely, and empty. The war table's chairs are nice and neat and the books of strategy, geography, and history are all stacked in a neat pile on the King's end of the table. The black marble floors reflect the white moonlight as it pours through the window above the throne. It's safe to say that Loriet has been preparing the palace for our return, which is actually pretty sweet of him. 

"Let's go to my room, and probably head for bed. I'm fairly exhausted from the walk to and from." Nicholas suggests. 

"Yeah, let's go." I agree. My feet are aching, and my back feels like it's been twisted in two different directions. The best thing I can do is lay down on a nice, soft bed, and drift to sleep. Nothing sounds better than that right now.

Nicholas, with our fingers interlocked, leads me to his bedroom, and playfully tosses me inside once there. As he shuts the door, I climb into the edge of the bed, and kick my shoes off onto the floor, along with my leggings, and my shirt. By the time Nicholas even gets his boots off, my clothes are in a nice, neat pile on his chair in the corner next to a bookshelf, and I'm under his covers. Nicholas gets almost completely naked, except for his loincloth, before climbing into bed behind me, and cradling me. With his arms wrapped snug around me, and satisfaction running through my veins, we call it a night, and drift off to sleep, ready for the next day.


End file.
